


Like, Comment, & Subscribe

by youraveragemushroom



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith has a big gay crush lol, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pidge is just trying to get rid of the sexual tension, Youtube AU, hunk is sick but trying his best, idk what to tag this, lance is the relatable bi disaster, skincare? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragemushroom/pseuds/youraveragemushroom
Summary: “So, mullet,” Lance started with a smirk, crossing his arms and leaning back casually, “you free to film the best video ever tomorrow?”“Um, I don’t think Pidge and I caught Mothman on camera yet, so no, the best video will not be filmed tomorrow,” Keith scoffed good-naturedly.Lance rolled his eyes in what could almost be fond exasperation as Pidge shouted “hell ya!” from behind. “Whatever, mullet. Just make sure your smart mouth makes it to my apartment tomorrow before eight.”In which Lance needs a partner, Keith needs a better excuse, and two pining idiots film a challenge video.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics





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It was during his five o’clock shift at the coffeehouse that Lance realized he was royally fucked.

“What do you _mean_ you’re _sick?!_ ” Lance demanded.

The disgruntled boy was met with the sound of gurgled coughing and phone static. 

“I mean,” Hunk said between coughs, “my throat is completely closed up and any makeup you want to try to use to hide my under-eye bags will sweat off since I’m basically a human sauna.”

Lance groaned loudly, accidentally catching the eyes of a few of the early morning patrons at _Altea’s Coffeehouse_. Shuffling so that he was partially hidden by the coffee brewers (in hopes he wouldn’t be caught on his phone by Allura), Lance turned back to his untimely-sick best friend.

“Are you sure, man?” he pleaded with Hunk. “This video’s been hyped for so long, and it’s doubling as our thank you vid for the four million subs!”

Hunk coughed loudly, making Lance cringe as he practically felt the germs being transmitted through the receiver. “I’m really sorry, man. I know how long you’ve been looking forward to this…”

Lance grimaced at Hunk’s tone, guilty for making his best friend-slash-channel-partner feel guilty. “It’s chill, Hunk. We can’t do anything about it, and we couldn’t have really prevented it, buddy.”

A series of coughs shook Lance’s phone. “What are we going to do, man?”

“You mean what am _I_ doing,” Lance reprimanded, “because you’re being detained at Shay's house. Bedrest and warm soup for my resident bestie!”

“But what about—”

“Nuh, uh, uh,” Lance shushed, waving his finger in front of him as if Hunk could see it. “Let me worry about that, my dude. I’ll find someone else to film the video with me, no worries! Meanwhile, you get better and think of an idea for next week’s video to make it up to our wonderful viewers—and yours truly.”

Hunk chuckled, suppressing the building cough before answering. “Alright, buddy. I owe you one!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance sighed, bidding his best friend adieu.

Hanging up, the tall boy slipped his phone into one of his apron pockets. Returning to his station like he hadn’t been slacking off, Lance mentally formed a list of people to call to fill in his best friend’s place.

~`~

Apparently Lance had no friends.

“Hey Pidge!~”

“No,” the teenager cut him off bluntly.

Lance pouted. “But I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“I’m psychic, and you think as loud as you talk,” Pidge retorted, not even looking up from their computer.

Lance gave them a cut-the-bullshit look. 

Pidge side-eyed their lanky friend (who was sprawled out on their brother’s couch), rolling their eyes. “Hunk texted me.”

Lance groaned, flopping back onto the armrest where he had stretched out. “Hunk! Annoyingly sweet, chunk-o’-hunk!”

Pidge chuckled. “In his defense, he was trying to convince me to help you so you wouldn’t have an aneurysm trying to get me to listen.”

At that, Lance perked up, balanced on his elbows as he stared at Pidge hopefully. “Did it work?”

They snorted. “I almost said I’d think about it, but then he told me what you had planned and I’ve never noped out of something faster!”

Lance huffed, letting his elbows give out. “Ugh. C’mon, Pidge! I’ll edit this one all by myself?” he attempted to negotiate.

The tiny brunette shook their head. “Hard pass.”

“I’ll take two edit jobs off your hands!”

“Nope.”

“I’ll let you pick my next video idea!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You can pick out the next five collabs!”

Pidge paused, realizing just how desperate Lance was. After their last collab where Lance was tricked into going cryptid hunting in the nearby woods, getting lost, and having to set up an impromptu campsite which consisted of a bed of dry leaves, Lance vowed that he was banning them from picking their collab-video ideas.

“Look, Lance,” Pidge sighed. “I am not going to do your vid, buddy. Sorry. If you’re really desperate, ask Shiro or Allura. I’m sure they’d be much better company, and would actually enjoy it.”

Lance pouted so loud Pidge actually heard him, slinking to the ground as he spoke. “I already asked Allura, but she was busy with the café. They’re revamping the menu, and she’s supervising Coran this time so they don’t end up stuck with various types of green, vegan sludge. And because of that, she put Shiro on renovating duty, since he’s basically only made of muscle and Dadness and can sorta color-coordinate.”

Seeing their friend slowly sink to the ground like slime dripping off the sofa, Pidge shrugged. 

“That’s rough, buddy.”

On the floor, Lance stuffed his face with a pillow. Pidge ignored the muffled screaming by putting on their noise-canceling headphones.

It was to the sound of Lance’s temper tantrum that Matt, Shiro, and Keith walked in. Shiro and Matt ignored his muffled wails, heading into their tiny kitchen. Keith followed them, only sparing Lance his signature confused frown and eyeroll. Placing the plastic bags filled with groceries on the floor next to the fridge, Keith left the other two to unpack and joined Pidge on the couch.

“What’s his deal?” he asked the messy-haired teen.

“No one wants to collab with him,” Pidge snickered, ignoring Lance’s tongue which was stuck out at them.

“Isn’t he used to that?” Keith retorted, scrolling on his phone as he rested his feet on the coffee table.

“Feet off the table!” Shiro shouted from the kitchen, to which Keith grumbled. Reluctantly, he took them off the table and kicked off his sneakers, folding his socked feet under him.

“Shut up, dropout,” Lance said, pulling the pillow off his face.

“Make me, errand boy,” Keith replied, not looking up from his screen. If he had looked up, he would’ve seen the pillow hurtling towards his face.

“Gah!” Keith choked on his spit, startled by the pillow thrown in his face, as Lance laughed at his rival’s cat-like jump.

“Sigh,” Lance breathed out, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “I’ve gotta say, Mullet, you’d make a great ca—”

Before Lance could finish teasing the boy’s jumpy nature, Keith attacked him with the pillow. With a fierce battle cry, the darker haired boy pinned his opponent down and brought the weapon down on his head.

“Die, bitch,” he muttered, holding the red throw pillow on Lance’s face with minimal pressure.

Lance, having grabbed a blue throw pillow before he was pinned under Keith, began whacking the latter’s head with said pillow repeatedly.

Keith finally pulled the pillow off Lance’s face after a few seconds, and Lance was met with a sight he couldn’t unsee even if he wanted to.

Adorably disheveled, Keith’s hair had been mussed up enough for his bangs to cover his eyes completely. From between strands of thick (and surprisingly soft, Lance recalled from that one time Keith let him do his hair), dark hair, Keith met Lance’s soft gaze with an equally soft one of his own. Dark eyes met blue ones. 

Keith was the first to shake himself out of the hazy state of mind that came with locking eyes with Lance for too long. Coughing out of awkwardness, he got up from his former position (straddling his so-called rival) and held a hand out to help Lance up.

Lance accepted it and, instead of pulling Keith down like he would have normally, got up coolly. Smoothing down his wrinkled work button-down, Lance made sure his eyes didn’t meet Keith’s, not wanting to be caught in that intense gaze a second time so soon.

“I win,” the taller boy huffed, falling back into their comfortable competitiveness.

Keith scoffed, taking bait as easily as Lance had hoped. “As if. The only reason I let you up was because I was bored.”

“Sure,” Lance drawled. “Keep telling yourself that, cameraman.”

Keith huffed, crossing his arms and glaring halfheartedly. “Whatever, pretty boy.”

With that, Keith left Lance slack-jawed to go help with groceries. Definitely not so that he could hide his blush-ridden face and sweaty palms.

Lance blinked once, twice, thrice, before Pidge snapped him out of his reverie. Literally.

“Hey _pretty boy_ ,” they all but shouted in his face, snapping their fingers right in front of his face, “you still with us?”

The lanky boy shoved their hand away, blowing them a raspberry. “Go away, Pidge.”

Ignoring their snickering, Lance made his way to the kitchen. Hopefully Matt restocked his gummy worms (and wouldn’t mind sharing).

Lance hopped onto the counter, an unopened plastic jar of gummy bears (it’ll have to do) in hand. 

“Hey Matt,” Lance sang, “I’m holding your bears hostage.”

Matt, who was putting the milk in the fridge, whipped around to find Lance’s hand filled with gummy bears.

“If you want to save them from being devoured tragically, you will do as I say!” Lance threatened.

“No!” Matt cried, clutching the fridge door dramatically. “I’ll do anything! PLEASE! Not the bears!”  
“Be in my four-twenty vid!” Lance commanded dramatically.

“No. And your what vid?”

Lance frowned, stuffing his face with the gummy bears (ignoring Matt’s yelp). 

“It’s my four hundred and twentieth video and coincidentally also a thank you video for hitting four million subscribers,” Lance explained as Matt grabbed the jar out of his other hand. “Hunk was supposed to be filming it with me, but then he just had to go and get sick!”

“In his defense,” Keith pointed out from the other side of the kitchen, “he’s been super stressed with classes and learning how to use Pidge’s new editing software.”

“It allows for classier cuts!” Pidge contributed from the couch.

Lance sighed. “I know. I’m not blaming him. It’s just that this video was a long time coming and I’ve been looking forward to it for so long!”

Shiro tuned to the conversation, having finished putting things away. “What’s the video about?”

“It was a Q and A video, with a special twist,” Lance replied. “I hadn’t told Hunk yet. I was gonna surprise him on camera. We answer some questions and do some hand picked dares given to us by my lovely fans over the course of last month, with a surprise I have yet to divulge to whoever my partner will be.”

“Hm, you’re not selling it any better,” Matt retorted, munching on a gummy bear.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance muttered. “I don’t have a partner so I can’t actually film it.”

Shiro frowned, lost in thought. “Did you ask Pidge?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yes, dad.”

Shiro ignored that. “Allura?”

“Yes.”

“Coran?”

“Yes! And Matt, and you! I don’t really have any more actual friends than that, Shiro.”

Shiro frowned in confusion. “What about Keith?”

At the sound of his name, Keith looked up from his phone with a, “Hm?”

Lance raised an eyebrow appraisingly. “I don’t know…”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, his lips turning into what Lance immediately categorized (and then ignored completely) as a cute pout. “Dunno what?”

“Do you wanna be in my four twenty vid?” Lance asked, hopes rising slightly.

Keith snorted, shaking his head almost vehemently. “Fuck no. Especially if you call it the four twenty vid.”

Lance pouted as Keith slipped his phone back in his pocket, crossing his arms like the cool badass he always tried to be.

“Besides,” Keith shrugged, “I’m already doing sound and film. I can’t do both.”

“What happened to the tripod?” Matt interjected.

Keith chuckled, smirking at Lance. “This one and your sibling broke it doing their trick shot video about three months ago. I’ve been manually positioning the camera every time and it is fucking annoying since Lance’s impromptu textbook tripod is lopsided and the camera looks like it’s gonna fall all the fucking—”

“Oh please,” Lance cut in. “You don’t even use it! You’ve decided to just hold it yourself and complain about it while I edit.”

“Because you would complain about how your head gets cut out or how you were off center while editing!” Keith sputtered, a blush of indignation sprouting on his cheeks.

“Whatever,” Lance huffed, unable to accept defeat. “Point is, I need someone to film this with me, and you are the only one who can do it!”

Keith shook his head, his eyes boring into Lance’s. “Did you not hear what I just said? I’m going to be filming. I can’t hold that heavy ass camera on a selfie stick so you can subject me to whatever weird ‘challenges’ you planned!”

“I have a solution!” Hunk piped in.

At the sound of their friend’s voice, everyone turned to Pidge, who was holding up their laptop towards them. On the tiny screen was a very sick Hunk surrounded by tissues and pillows. 

“Hey, Hunk,” Shiro greeted, waving a hand from where he stood. “How’re you holding up?”

The tinny sound of Hunk’s rough cough was answer enough. “I feel like death, Shiro. I’ll be fine, though. But no, I have a solution to your problem, Lance!”

Lance (and Keith, who had come to stand near him in front of Pidge’s laptop) raised an eyebrow at Hunk’s grainy face. “What’re you suggesting, buddy?” 

“Well,” Hunk said, clearing his throat, “you guys can borrow my new tripod since I can’t film this week anyway! Also, it’s the least I can do for putting you guys in this situation.”

Keith’s eyes widened as, before he could even insist that was too much to offer, Lance began thanking his best friend profusely.

“OMG! Hunk, you’re literally the bestest!” Lance exclaimed, running towards the couch and kissing Pidge’s screen before they pulled it away with a high-pitched screech.

Hunk chuckled, it dissolving into a slight cough. “It’s nothing, buddy! It’s in my room, if you guys decide to use it. Make sure to detach my camera though. And be careful this time—it was a present from my grandma.”

“You have nothing to worry about, my dude-do-rito!” Lance exclaimed, picking screen-Hunk up and spinning him around. Pidge yanked on his collar, swiping back their laptop as Lance choked to death.

Hunk chuckled, suppressing another cough. “If anyone’s a dude-dorito, it’s Shiro.”

“True dat,” Matt interjected, the only one still unpacking.

“Okay, Hunk,” Pidge said, turning the screen back towards themselves. “I gotta go finish creating a gif for Lance’s last vid. Get some rest, buddy. Smell ya later!”

And with a chorus of goodbyes (and Lance’s over dramatic belting of See You Again), Hunk’s face was replaced with a red phone signalling that the call had ended.

“Alright!” Lance exclaimed, doing a series of fist pumps and power poses. “Back on the hype train! Only stop: 420 station!”

Keith, who had gone silent during the whole exchange, debated backing out of the whole ordeal before Lance reached maximum hype-capacity; he technically hadn’t even agreed to doing the video with Lance. But seeing the obvious glee in his friend’s (and totally-not-crush’s) whole body, the raven-haired boy sighed in resignation.

At the sound from the quiet boy, Lance turned. His eyes lit up in unsuppressable glee, as Keith’s squinted in scrutiny.

“So, mullet,” Lance started with a smirk, crossing his arms and leaning back casually, “you free to film the best video ever tomorrow?”

“Um, I don’t think Pidge and I caught Mothman on camera yet, so no, the best video will not be filmed tomorrow,” Keith scoffed good-naturedly.

Lance rolled his eyes in what could almost be fond exasperation as Pidge shouted “hell ya!” from behind. “Whatever, mullet. Just make sure your smart mouth makes it to my apartment tomorrow before eight.”

The slightly shorter boy’s face turned sour at the mention of an early morning. “Why so early?”

“Because,” Lance said in a ‘duh’ tone, “I need your help to set up and make sure you look presentable! Wear something nice, by the way—not one of the thousand old, faded black tees you own.”

“Ugh, whatever. I’m sure I can find a button up,” he said, playing with the hem of his fingerless gloves. “Got a color in mind?”

Lance pursed his lips, thinking. “I’d say red, because that would contrast the blue I was gonna wear. But knowing you? I doubt you even own a white button up.”

“Hardy har har. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! Now just to get rid of this mullet,” Lance chirped, ruffling his collaborator’s (soft) hair.

“Fuck you, Lance,” Keith snapped. “I draw the line at cutting my hair.”

“Yeah yeah,” Lance relented. “One can only dream—I get it.”

“Do we still have to film so early though?” Keith whined, pouting the way that made Lance’s heart rate pick up.

Lance nodded, clearing his throat as quietly as he could. “The nine o’clock sunlight really works with my face, Keith. My skin and viewers deserve only the best!”

“Whatever, drama queen. I’ll be there at eight,” Keith said, heading back to the kitchen. 

Lance sauntered back to the living room (without staring at Keith’s ass like he definitely did _not_ want to do) and practically floated onto the couch. 

With a quick goodbye to Shiro and Matt, and a wave tossed at Pidge and Lance, Keith left the Holt-Gane (as dubbed by Pidge) residence. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lance realized he had to go to the store and pick up a few last-minute things for tomorrow’s video. With a goodbye quicker than his partner’s, the lanky boy exited the apartment with a newfound gusto he hadn’t possessed when he walked in.

A solid six seconds of silence suspended between the remaining three friends before they all remarked, in unison, “Das gay.”

~`~

Keith was in the middle of picking out what to wear for tomorrow (he actually owned _three_ button down shirts, Lance: one in white, one in black, and a red flannel) when he heard his phone start to vibrate. Living alone meant a lot of quiet, which helped in moments like this.

Running around the house, trying to find it before it stopped buzzing, Keith finally found his phone under the pile of the day’s discarded clothes.

“What’s up,” he huffed into the receiver, just before it was about to go to his voicemail.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” Lance asked, voice tinny over the line.

“No! No, my phone was just on vibrate,” Keith reassured, putting it on speaker and sliding it into his breast pocket. With his hands now free, the darker haired boy picked up his dirty laundry. 

“What else is new,” Lance chuckled. “What’re you up to?”

Depositing the clothes in his bent hamper, Keith went back to scouring his closet. “Just picking out what shirt to wear for tomorrow.”

“Oh, please tell me you have a button down?” Lance pleaded dramatically.

Keith rolled his eyes, something he did often in the quirky boy’s presence. “I have three, in fact. So go suck a dick Lance.”

“Gladly,” Lance retorted. “And wow, I didn’t expect you to have such a wide selection!”

“You see, I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not right now. I have a white one, a black one, and a red flannel—opinions?”

“Hmm,” Lance murmured, thinking. “Go with red—seems casual enough but not too casual, ya feel?”

“Uh, sure.”

“But you’re still buttoning it up.”

“Ugh. Fine, whatever you say, your highness.”

Keith could practically hear Lance’s smirk. “Glad to know you’ve come to truly realize my excellence and general superiority.”

“Yeah, at being a pain in the ass, maybe.”

Lance blew a raspberry, making Keith cringe as he imagined the spit spraying out of the receiver. “Boo you, whore. Anyone would be delighted to have me in their ass.”

Keith laughed at that, ignoring the light blush he could feel creep up his neck. “As the ‘Certified Gay’ you so eloquently dubbed me, I can safely say that _any_ pain in the ass is unwelcome, most of all one that has a smart mouth.”

“Guess you just haven’t had the right smart-mouth,” Lance retorted, tone undeniably suggestive.

Keith paused, as did Lance. Both boys went silent as they turned over their words. 

It was Lance who broke the silence with an awkward cough, not letting the silence marinate for too long. “Um, I had an actual reason for calling, by the way.”

Keith took the bait gratefully. “Oh, okay. What’s up?”

“So, I know you’re lactose intolerant,” Lance said, waiting for Keith’s confirmation.

“Mh hm,” Keith confirmed. “I can eat a little dairy, but not too much without getting sick. If tomorrow’s thing has dairy involved then I can take a pill or something—it’s no big deal.”

“No, yeah, I remember,” Lance assured. “I was just wondering if that extends to like topical ingestion.”

“What?”

Lance clicked his tongue, groaning. “Ugh. This is so hard to phrase, without giving away the surprise! What I mean, is, like, can you touch dairy products without an allergic reaction?”

Keith chuckled. “Lance, do you understand what lactose intolerance is?”

Lance spluttered. “Of fucking course I know what lactose intolerance is, shithead—I’ve had to get lactose-free milk for Hunk whenever he bakes you your birthday cake every year! I just wanted to make sure, you know, that you wouldn’t be like confined to the bathroom because of a little milk! Sorry for caring, mullet-for-brains!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Keith exclaimed, outright laughing at his friend (and totally not blushing at his concern).

“You don’t make sense,” Lance retorted defensively. 

“Sure, Jan,” Keith replied, proud of himself for remembering one of Lance’s memes. “And for the record, no, I won’t get any symptoms from _touching_ milk.”

“Okay first of all, nice meme usage—I’ll make a twenty-first-century man of you yet. And second of all, cool. I was not ready to replan the whole thing around that!”

“What are we doing, by the way?” Keith asked, removing the phone from his pocket. Turning it off speaker-mode, he brought it to his ear. Flopping on his bed, careful to not wrinkle his clothes for tomorrow, Keith waited hopefully for a straight answer.

He quickly realized he shouldn’t expect one from Lance.

“Nuh-uh-uh!” Lance sang, much to Keith’s chagrin. “It’s a surprise, Keithy-boy. I can’t wait to film your reaction tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow seems like it’s not gonna bode well for me,” Keith huffed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Can’t I get a hint?”

“Nope!” Lance said, popping the p. “It’s not that bad, honestly. Chill.”

“I don’t trust your sense of good or bad, mister ‘ _let’s backflip into the pool in the dead of winter for views!_ ’”

“Oh my god, Keith—that was _one time_!”

“Yeah, one time too many, idiot! You were literally shivering all night, dumbass—not to mention you blacked out after an hour or so!”

Lance chuckled at the memory from over a year ago. “Apparently I woke up at some point, but I just could not remember anything that happened. I only remember you complaining the morning after, haha.”

“Because I had to literally carry your weak ass to bed! And then you forced me to sleep with you—which I only agreed to, because you were a pathetic mess—and then proceeded to suffocate me with your octopus limbs!”

Lance laughed loudly at that, causing Keith to smile silently. “I still think you made that up.”

“Yeah,” Keith deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Because I really want you to think I cradled you in my arms when it didn’t actually happen.”

“Wouldn’t put it past your gay ass,” Lance challenged, shuffling on the other end.

“I said I was gay, not that I had no standards.”

Lance let out an indignant squawk in protest. “How dare—oh shit, it’s already past midnight. Fuck, I gotta ring these up and get home. I’ll call you tomorrow, Keith. Sorry!”

“It’s fine, Lance,” Keith reassured. “Get some sleep, dude. I’ll head over a little earlier and help you set up and shit.”  
“Thanks, mullet-man! Sweet dreams!”

“Sweet dreams, sharpshooter.”

Keith could practically hear Lance’s smirk over the line. “And you said that would never catch on!”

Keith hung up in the familiar, caustic way he treated Lance. He knew Lance knew the drill by now, and that the lanky boy was probably chuckling at his friend’s endearing nickname.

Putting aside his flannel and a nice pair of black ripped jeans, Keith decided he’d put off sleep by cleaning up his semi-disorderly room. 

It was one in the morning when Keith finally collapsed onto his creaky bed. It was to the quiet humming of his heart (a little too fast when he thought of what was to come) that Keith fell asleep, praying he wouldn’t look too much like shit for Lance. 

~`~

Lance didn’t get to bed until two thirty, and he was seriously regretting it. He’d stayed up so late in part preparing for the video and in part freaking out about spending the better part of the day with Keith.

Keith Kogane.

Keith Kogane—Lance’s self-proclaimed rival and, now that he’s stopped being in such denial, tentative crush.

And it wasn’t until the loud thumping was joined by a soft voice calling his name that Lance registered that he didn’t set a fucking alarm.

Eyes snapping open, Lance carried his sleep-worn limbs to the door in as much of an orderly fashion as possible as quickly as he could. Meaning, he flopped like a fish out of water and accidentally slammed face first in the door as he slipped on one of his stray socks.

“Lance?” a voice asked from outside the door. “Are you okay?”

Picking himself up with a groan, Lance reached for the doorknob from his sprawled position on the floor. When he realized he couldn’t reach it from there, the tan boy reluctantly got up.

Unlocking the door, he was met with the sight of the unfairly beautiful boy with a familiar mullet.

“Keith?” Lance asked, mid-yawn. “What’re you doing here?”

Keith quirked an eyebrow, checking his watch. “It’s seven-thirty? I told you I’d come over early to help set up?”

Lance blinked thrice, before he took off running back into his room. He scrambled for his phone, which was charging next to his bed, and checked to see that it was, in fact seven thirty in the fucking morning.

Letting out an upset groan at his phone for not waking him up, Lance turned around and headed back into the living room. 

Keith was still at the door, calming himself down. Objectively, he knew about Lance’s sleeping habits (ie: how he slept in only his boxers, if nothing else), and he’s been subject to a shirtless Lance before. But suddenly being bombarded with his friend’s sleep-wreaked hair and blurry gaze, coupled with his near-nakedness and pillow-lined, smooth face was too much for Keith. He was a simple man, and this overload of adorkableness caught the long-haired boy off guard. It was in the midst of this processing that Lance found him again.

“What are you doing there?” Lance asked, walking up to Keith. “Come in and make yourself at home, man. I’m gonna go shower real quick.”

Keith nodded, closing the door behind him. 

Lance, in the meantime, slipped into his ensuite bathroom (Hunk refused to fight him for it, knowing that Lance needed his space and time for all his beauty endeavors). Lance hated showering at night, preferring to wash away the night’s grime and start the day with a fresh outlook. Already having picked out and placed the day’s clothes on the countertop, Lance turned the shower on to a nice lukewarm setting he’d spent the past year discovering. He went to take his shirt off, when he realized the only thing he had on was his boxers from yesterday. 

Blushing at the realization that he just answered the door (behind which was fucking _Keith_ ) in just old boxers, Lance stepped into the shower and prayed for it to drown him before he died of embarrassment.

~`~

Keith was in the kitchen when Lance exited the bathroom, a trail of steam dissipating as it escaped into the cool living room. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Lance tutted, hurrying towards the fridge Keith was about to open. “No you don’t.”

“You said to make myself at home?” Keith asked, a confused expression on his face.

“Yeah, but I _also_ said that this video was going to be a surprise,” Lance explained, fishing Keith the Starbucks Mocha he kept in his fridge specifically for him since he knew he would never admit to actually liking them.

“Why do you have things in your fridge that I can’t see, Lance?” Keith asked suspiciously, accepting the drink. “What are you going to subject me to?”

Lance shook his head, keeping his amusement in check. “You’ll find out soon enough! Now, come help me set up.”

The dark-haired boy merely stared him down, begrudgingly looking away to sip at his sugar-in-a-cup. “I’m regretting this already.”

Lance laughed at that, striding back into the living room where he hadn’t even noticed that Keith had set up the tripod from Hunk’s room. The camera they were going to be using was on the coffee table in front of it, a pack of spare batteries sitting next to it. 

“I set up the tripod in the living room since I had a feeling you’d need the coffee table for whatever you’re going to do,” Keith said as he sidestepped around Lance. “Also, the lighting is better in here and I remember that you’re whiny about those kinds of things.”

Lance rolled his eyes, ignoring the fact that Keith remembered his comment about the lighting. “Hardy har har. Grab the mic and attach it to the long stick thingy while I go get some textbooks to hold it in place since we’re short on people today.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to be _on_ camera instead of behind it!” Keith spluttered behind Lance.

Lance ignored him in favor of grabbing a few of Hunk’s engineering textbooks from his room. Stopping by the bathroom, he also swiped one of his friend’s bandanas, purposely picking the bright pink one to spite Keith.

Keith was just finished screwing the mic into place when Lance came back with the goods. Upon seeing the chosen bandana he sent Lance a withering look that, a few years ago, would’ve prompted Lance to annoy Keith further. Now, he just wiggled his eyebrows and watched the aforementioned boy roll his eyes with a huff. Oh how far they have come.

“Can I please choose a different bandana?” he pleads, setting the mic down and grabbing a few books from Lance.

“I don’t know, Keith. I think the neon of the pink really brings out your—”

“I will drop this textbook on your toe.”

“Fine! Fine, go pick one from Hunk’s drawer in the bathroom,” Lance relented, putting the books on a chair just out of the frame. He managed to wrestle the books into a stack around the mic stick, only 89% sure it wouldn’t fall. Oh well—it would make for good bloopers if all else fails. 

While Keith was in the bathroom contemplating which bandana he should wear onscreen, Lance set up the camera and pressed record, letting it adjust to the light and surroundings while he threw Keith’s empty bottle away. He grabbed the mysterious, cellophane-wrapped bowls from the fridge, juggling all five containers in his two lanky hands. Lining them up on the floor under the coffee table, he let the camera autofocus on him and then began recording his intro.

“Hey fellow gentle-viewers! It’s me again, the resident cool kid of this wholesome channel! Welcome back! Hunk and Pidge, my amazing co-founders, have graciously let me film this video. As you can tell from the snazzy title I’ll inevitably make, this is a very special video! Serving as both our long-since-requested thank you video for hitting four million subscribers and our actual four hundred and twentieth video, we wanted to thank every one of you who contributed to our success by doing a special Q and A with a twist!

“Now originally, I was supposed to be filming this bomb-ass video with my good buddy and resident mama-hen Hunk. Unfortunately, Hunk works too hard for his own good and ended up getting majorly sick and throwing one of his many socket wrenches into our proverbial plans. Dear gentle-viewers, I was almost not able to make this video! However, like a grumpy crow, my uncharacteristically gracious best friend has begrudgingly been conviced to help me film this and take Hunk’s place as my assistant and appear on camera with me for the first time! For those gentle-viewers who are somewhat regulars, you guys might’ve seen him before in some of Pidge’s videos, since he has the same weird penchant for cryptids that the gremlin has. Without further ado, I present to you, our resident cameraman, Keith!” 

This was supposed to be Keith’s cue, but he was still nowhere to be seen. Lance sighed, getting up to go find him.

Turns out Keith was still in the bathroom. He was still staring at Hunk’s array of bandanas, seemingly having narrowed it down to a plain black one and a pale blue one. Absentmindedly, he also seemed to have arranged all the bottles on the countertop that Lance haphazardly left around while he contemplated between the two.

“Yo, dude,” Lance called, his head popping in the doorway. “What’s taking so long?”

Keith looked up from one of Lance’s lotion bottles he was fiddling with. Setting it back on the countertop, he sighed.

“I don’t know which one to pick,” the pale boy muttered, keeping his eyes down and unreadable.

Lance raised an eyebrow, clearly seeing that the bandanas were not the problem here.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically softer than usual.

Keith shook his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Sure Jan,” Lance snorted, stepping into the room and leaning back beside the door frame.

“Just, I’ve never been in one of your videos,” Keith admitted, mumbling. “I don’t want to mess this up, or do something wrong…”

“Dude that’s impossible!” Lance exclaimed, reaching out automatically to grab Keith’s arm. “My content is literally whatever Pidge and Hunk _don’t_ do! I don’t exactly have a theme or anything. Most of the time I don’t even have a script—you know that! It’s gonna be fine, Keith. I promise.”

Keith sighed, looking a little less apprehensive. “You sure you don’t just want to wait until Hunk gets better?”

“I’m sure! One, it’ll be way too late and stilt our ever-flowing stream of content. And two, the more I thought about it last night, I think this will be so much more entertaining with you rather than Hunk!”

Keith tilted his head down further, his long hair hiding most of his face. Lance still caught the hint of blush that painted his cheeks.

“Fine, okay,” Keith agreed. “But I still don’t know which bandana I should choose.”

“Go with your gut, man,” Lance offered, quickly grabbing one of Hunk’s rubber bands from a different drawer. Keith’s long hair is definitely going to get in the way if he didn’t tie it back, but he didn’t know that yet.

“Alright,” Keith said, putting the black one back in the drawer. 

Scooping the blue bandana and his restless nerves, the shorter boy began walking out of the bathroom when Lance squacked.

“Wait!” Lance yelped, grabbing the bandana from him. “You need to put this on so you don’t see what the stuff is!”  
“Stuff?” Keith questioned as Lance tied the blue bandana across his eyes “Should I be worried, Lance?”

“Not any more than usual, my dude,” Lance replied, patting him on the back once he was done. “Here, I’ll guide you. Walk forward.”

With care and two warm, guiding hands on his shoulders, Keith was ushered into the living room and pushed unceremoniously onto one side of Lance and Hunk’s couch. 

Although he couldn’t see anything, the worn cloth from the familiar couch was enough to settle Keith’s nerves for the moment. Being on camera wasn’t usually his thing. Hell, most people weren’t his thing! Sure, he had an Instagram and a Twitter, but they were mostly for publicity’s sake. And so that Lance could get an extra like and retweet on his selfies.

“Alrighty, gentle-viewers!” Lance said in his camera-voice, punctuating it with an enthusiastic clap. “I’ve returned with Keith in tow! Poor guy couldn’t choose a bandana but, thanks to yours truly, is now adorned with one of Hunk’s multiple! I actually think this is part of that set I got him for last Christmas. Anyway! Keith, please tell the gentle-viewers what we’re doing today!”

“I am going to be subjected to surprise torture in the form of your presence and whatever you decided to do today.”

Keith could hear Lance’s frown. “Why are you like this, edgelord?”

Their banter was good fodder for comedy, so Keith let Lance goad him into it. “Because you made me get here super early and didn’t even have the decency to be awake or ready to set up, loser. Also because I still don’t know what we’re doing today.”

Cool fingers tilted his chin a few degrees to the right. “My face his here, dumb-dumb. Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean you can’t hear too.”

“Shut up and tell the viewers what we’re doing today, Lance,” Keith retorted, hoping that the bandana covered the very light blush that threatened to grace his face.

Lance chuckled, knowing he won whatever implicit competition they had. “Alright, alright. But only for my lovely gentle-viewers.

“Today, gentle-dudes, I am going to be putting Keith through a homemade spa facial treatment while we answer _your_ wonderful questions, which I spent the past three months compiling in the form of a sort of ‘best friend challenge’!”

“Wait, what?!” Keith exclaimed, ripping the bandana off. “ _That’s_ what we’re doing? Oh, hell no—”

“Shut up, Keith,” Lance cut him off. “If anyone needs this, it’s you. Besides, you can’t back out now—it’s too late!”

Keith groaned leaning back dramatically. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure Jan,” Lance chuckled, pulling him to sit back upright. “Anyways, the premise of this wonderful activity is that I’m going to put these five natural, homemade face remedies on my lovely partner here—all recipes are linked in the description below. Keith’s gonna read out some of the questions I’ve saved and try to guess my answers. We have some dares on those flashcards on the table, which he’ll have to do if he answers anything wrong. Some of them won’t work as well, since these were meant for me and _Hunk_ , but I think our mulleted guest will make do just fine, won’t you Keith?”

“I’d like to use my ‘get out of jail free’ card please.”

“Too late!”

Lance pulls out the first plastic bowl from under the table. “Are you ready?”

Keith sighed, shifting his eyes from the camera to the bowl to Lance. “Unfortunately.”

Lance pulled out his phone, where he had screenshots of the questions. “I’m going to put this on your face while you ask me these questions, got it? This one is a classic yogurt-based cleanser, by the way, to kick things off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, unlocking Lance’s phone with his own fingerprint (courtesy of a lost bet from a year ago). 

Keith sat up straight, ignoring how close Lance had gotten in order to torture him. “When did you and Hunk—ah!”

“What?” Lance asked worriedly, pulling his hand away. 

“N-nothing,” Keith reassured. “It’s just, a lot colder than I expected.”

Lance rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Oh my god; you’re such a baby, Keith.”

“Shut up,” Keith replied, ignoring the feeling of Lance’s fingers on his face, focusing on the question in front of him. “‘When did you and Hunk first meet.’ Oh my god really, this is the best you could come up with?”

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed, poking his friend on the cheek. “I was starting out with easy trivia. Now answer the question, dude.”

Keith rolled his eyes, turning back to the camera (they were supposed to look into the camera, right?). “Hunk was disgraced with this one’s presence—”

“Hey!”

“In middle school, when you moved halfway through the year and he decided to take pity on you and be your friend,” Keith finished, ignoring Lance’s interruption. 

“Ding, ding, ding!” Lance cheered, swiping a dollop of pink colored yogurt onto the other boy’s nose. “Bonus points if you can remember mine and Pidge’s origin story?”

Keith wrinkled his nose, in part because of the unfamiliar weight and in part to remember. “Uh, sophomore year of high school, but they were in...eighth grade at the time? Colleen needed a babysitter and your mom roped you into watching the neighbor’s kid, somehow, but it turns out their mom just didn’t trust an unsupervised Pidge with whatever new tech Sam brought home from work.”

Lance chuckled at the memory of the disgruntled mini-child prodigy being told they were being supervised at the age of eleven while their parents were going out for a few hours. “For good reason, too! I remember turning away for a second to feed Baybay—the Holts’ beautiful golden retriever—and they were unscrewing parts off the toaster with the most disgruntled expression an eleven year old could muster!”

Keith chuckled at that, letting his friend rub the cold yogurt into his burning face. “Not much has changed, to be honest.”

Lance nodded in agreement, dropping his hands and turning back to the camera. “That is true, viewers! Now, time to wipe this off and reveal Keith’s fresh, glowing face!”

Keith squinted at the wet cloth Lance produced, shutting his eyes tightly. He didn’t care what Lance said—everything he’s put on his face has been cold so far, and he did _not_ like it. At the first touch of the wet rag, Keith hissed and moved away on instinct.

“You really are a big baby,” Lance laughed. “Come back here, and stop squirming!”

Lance tugged Keith back into place with a soft grip on the boy’s chin. Keith really hoped he could play off the redness in his cheeks as his pale skin’s reaction to the cold, wet cloth (not his gay, pining ass). Lance let go off his chin once, to push his hair back, and Keith flinched harshly at the unexpected touch.

“You okay, buddy?” Lance inquired, rubbing the last of the yoghurt off.

“Just peachy,” Keith replied, rubbing his eyes open. “What’s next on your torture agenda?”

“Don’t rub your eyes, so harshly,” the taller boy chastised. “And, next on the agenda is opening your pores!”

Keith’s eyes widened. He contemplated whether or not it was too late to bail, gulping when he realized he dug his own grave. “Uhh…that sounds painful.” 

Lance chuckled, pulling out a weird jug-like contraption from under the coffee table. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”

Keith scoffed, shaking his head. Lance explained to his viewers about how to properly steam one’s face (“ _That still sounds painful, Lance._ ” “ _Oh my fucking god—just trust me, Kogane!”_ ) at home.

“We’re gonna be using this portable face steamer,” Lance explained, gesturing to the weird machine on the table, “created by one of my favorite face and skin care brands, Oriande Beauty! Link in the description, if y’all wanna check out their website, and use the promo code L4NC3 for thirty percent off your first purchase!”

“Hashtag sponsored,” Keith chimed in, feeling like it had been a while since he pitched into the conversation. Lance flashed his signature finger guns at the camera, turning back to plug the device into the nearby port. Immediately, steams began to slowly putter out of the nozzle.

Lance turned to Keith, who was still glaring stink eyes at the tiny machine. “Chill, man. It’s literally just water vapour.”

Keith turned his glare on his friend, who stared right back with an expression of amusement. “I don’t like sweating.”

“You literally go on long runs every morning with Shiro!” Lance exclaimed.

“That’s different,” Keith replied, begrudgingly putting his hair up with the rubber band Lance handed him. “Sweating is a normal body reaction to working out.”

“Okay?” Lance prompted, prepping a towel for afterwards.

“I don’t like sweating when I’m not making it myself!” Keith sputtered, ignoring Lance’s guffaws. The dark-haired boy pouted, shoving his friend and his torture device away.

“But you’re from Texas!” Lance retorted, angling the device to blow steam over the other boy’s face. Despite his complaints, Keith complied, slumping defeatedly in front of the steam. His eyes were closed, but he could hear Lance’s annoyingly smug expression in his snicker.

“I was _born_ in Texas,” he corrected. “And it was hell.”

“You would think he’d have gotten used to the heat, huh?” Lance remarked towards the camera, shaking his head in faux-exasperation. 

“There’s a reason I moved away as soon as I left the system!”

“And that had nothing to do with Shiro moving to Seattle and offering you a place while you went to university?”

“...An unexpected coincidence.”

Lance rolled his eyes, reaching for his friend’s hand. “Yeah right, you closeted emotional wreck. Here, hold this.” Lance wrapped Keith’s hand around the steamer, positioning it at the right angle, before letting go and reaching for his forgotten phone.

“Why?” Keith questioned, his face scrunched up in annoyance from the sweat he could feel coating his face.

“Well,” Lance answered, scrolling back to the questions, “we’ve only been through one question, buddy. Gotta give the fans what we promised.”

“Technically, they asked for Hunk, and I’m only doing this out of the goodness—”

“What was my first viral video?” Lance interrupted, reading from his phone.

Keith paused at that, frown deepening as he thought. “Well,” he started, turning to Lance’s general direction, “you got really popular after you uploaded that really elaborate trickshot video Pidge dared you to do. But I think you really blew up after you, Hunk, and Pidge did that blind baking challenge that nearly burned the dorm down.”

Lance chuckled at the memory. “Didn’t you film that one?”

“No, but I was the one who put out all the fires since you insisted y’all’s blindfolds stayed on.”

Lance laughed harder, even going as far as to unironically slap his knee. “Oh my god, you’re right! We were trying to make—”

“Weed-free pot brownies,” Keith finished. “And I still don’t understand why you didn’t just call them regular brownies.”

“Because we decided to bake them in a pot,” Lance explained, exasperatedly, “but we couldn’t call them ‘pot-brownies’ because they weren’t, like, edibles. Just brownies we made in a pot because none of us broke, college kids had baking trays.”

“I just remember smelling smoke and coming into the communal kitchen to see you three blindfolded, standing around an on-fire pot of sludge.”

Lance stuck his tongue out—not that Keith could see—and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, fireman. And while those are two very memorable videos I’ve made, the answer I was looking for was actually the LA vlog.”

Keith scrunched his face at that, sputtering, “But that doesn’t count! That one blew up on your second channel!”

Lance shrugged at the camera. “Still got me my five seconds of fame. And my subscriber count went way up after I reuploaded that part Pidge filmed me street-performing to my main channel.”

“Only because that one actor from Riverdale made a cameo,” Keith scoffed.

“Do not refer to Vanessa Morgan as ‘that one actor from Riverdale’, Keith. That’s ‘My Babysitter’s a Vampire’ erasure and the fans will not tolerate it,” the other boy retorted, flicking his friend in the forehead. Keith swatted his hand away, grumbling.

“Anyway, you know what that means!” Lance sang, reaching over to grab the bowl of dares. “Pick your poison, loser.”

Keith sighed, feeling blindly for the bowl until Lance guided his hand to it. “I still believe that question was rigged…”

“Hunk would’ve guessed it.”

“Hunk would’ve guessed it,” the dark-haired boy mimicked in a higher pitch. He grabbed the first slip of paper his hand touched, handing it to Lance to read.

Unfurling it, Lance read aloud, “‘Have Lance text any number in your phone anything he wants’. Ooh, I know exactly who I’m gonna text!”

Keith frowned. “How do I know you’re not just making that up because I can’t read it myself?”

Lance giggled surreptitiously, glancing at his incapacitated friend. “Here, I’ll show it to the viewers so they can keep me honest.”

Keith grumbled as Lance shuffled towards the camera, rolling out the piece of paper face-up to the lens. It read, “speak in a foreign accent until the next dare.” Lance held a finger up to his lips in a conspiratory way, knowing the comments section of this video would be filled with his fans calling him out once it was up. Keeping up the charade, Lance turned back to Keith, whose face was finally beginning to relax under the steam.

“There,” the blue-eyed boy said, flopping back down on the couch. “Now gimme your phone!”

If Keith’s eyes were open, Lance was sure they’d be rolling at him. Even closed, he could map out the action under his eyelids as the dark-haired boy passed his phone to Lance, who was making obnoxious grabby-fingers.

“I’m pretty sure I know who you’re gonna text,” Keith said, leaning back casually. 

Lance, on the other hand, was excitedly scrolling through the proffered phone, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, eyes glinting deviously. “That’s what you think, mullet.”

Keith sighed. “It’s not a mullet.”

“Deny it all you want, mullet, but your hair is nothing less than an ode to 80s rock and roll,” Lance retorted absent-mindedly. “Aha! Found it!”

“It took you that long to find Shiro’s phone number?”

Lance smirked at Keith, even though he wouldn’t see it. “Who said I was looking for Shiro’s phone number?”

Keith’s face, which was a light pink from the heat, paled. “Y-you’re not texting Shiro?”

Lance outright cackled. “Why would I text Shiro from your phone when he knows we’re filming this right now? No, there wouldn’t be any fun in that!”

Keith put the steamer down, avidly wiping his eyes and shifting towards his friend. “Lance, I swear to god—”

Lance laughed, shoving Keith away with one hand and typing with the other. “Keith! Put the steam back on your face—I can see your blackheads reforming!”

“That’s definitely not how that works,” Keith countered, squinting through the sweat. “And who the fuck are you texting, Lance?! Give me back my phone!”

Lance used his foot to keep his friend away bending over the arm of the couch to finish the text and send it. “You’ll see when they respond later!”

“Lance!” Keith exclaimed, shoving his foot away and stepping over the sprawled boy and snatching his phone. The other boy in question was cackling at his flustered friend, squawking when he was ungraciously stepped on. 

“You texted James?!” Keith squeaked—ahem, said normally. He was furiously wiping his face, trying to read what Lance wrote.

Lance roughly shoved the other boy back into place, chuckling at his flustered friend. “Uh, yeah? Everybody knows that boy has had a massive awkward crush on you since freshman year but wouldn’t do shit about it, and you seemed to enjoy your little date last week—”

“That wasn’t a date!”

Lane huffed, unimpressed. “By your abysmal romantic standards? It definitely was, Keithy-boy, just admit it!”  
Keith groaned. “No, you dolt! It was just coffee, because we like to meet up and bitch about life once a month— _not a date!_ ”

Lance rolled his eyes at that. “Maybe to you, but people don’t just meet up with people they went to school with, on a whim, to get coffee, and bitch about life…”

Keith, finally able to see, scrutinized Lance’s blasé expression. “I...that’s not what it’s like…?”

Lance smiled wryly at the other boy’s flustered appearance. _So what if this leads to James finally asking Keith out? At least he has the balls to actually do it...albeit, five years later,_ Lance thought to himself. And judging by how awkward Keith looked, it might not just be so one-sided. The thought did give Lance heart-pangs, but what kind of a friend would he be if he didn’t help his romantically-obtuse-best-friend-who-he-was-maybe-a-little-in-sorta-love-with? Unrequited feelings aside, it was Lance’s duty as Keith’s best friend to help the guy out!

“And besides,” Keith continued, interrupting Lance’s internal soliloquy of heartache, “just because he might... _like me like that_ or whatever...doesn’t mean I like him back, Lance.”

“Keith, as your bestest of friends—”

“—might have to revoke that title—”

“—it is my duty to help your painfully unromantic ass out in these dire times!” Lance cut him off. “And, I’ve known you for years, buddy. If you actually tolerate a person for the occasional recurring cup of coffee, that’s _basically_ a marriage proposal.”

Keith glared at his woefully-obtuse-best-friend-who-he-was-definitely-unfortunately-tragically-in-love-with, setting aside his phone before he could read whatever reply James would send him for the _“hey baby u free fridAy nite???? Wud luv 2 take u out!!!!”_ and three strings of emojis Lance sent from Keith’s phone. 

“Whatever, Lance,” the darker-haired boy huffed, wiping his face with a towel. “I’ll deal with... _that_ later. Just—what’s next?”

“But you didn’t—” Keith’s nonplussed glare quelled Lance’s tirade, making the other boy change course. “Fine! But if your semi-closed pores hurt you because you couldn’t deal with the steam—”

“Just get on with it!”

~`~

Thirty minutes later found Keith stretched out on the couch, head in Lance’s lap while the latter painfully scraped out the blackheads on his friend’s face. It was, to say the least, excruciating for the both of them.

“OW! Oh my fucking god, Lance!”

“I told you you should’ve kept the steam on longer…”

“You’re stabbing me on purpose, now!”

“I assure you, you absolute child, that this is just how people get rid of blackheads (muttering) _not that you seem to have that many, fucking clear-skinned bitch_ …”

“It’s not my fault that I have good skin, Lance! And even if I did, you’re still stabbing me the normal amount, you dick, so it clearly doesn’t help me at all!”

Lance scoffed, good-naturedly, at his friend’s scrunched up face. “First of all, I know your fucking bar-soap skincare routine, and it should be criminal how your face isn’t ugly as fuck with how you take care of it—”

“— _Hey!_ —”

“—And two, I’m using a _lancet_ to _scoop_ out all the shit in your face, so _technically_ there’s no stabbing—”

“—not if you keep assaulting my face, asshole!”

“Don’t scream at the lancet! We’re just doing our best, bitch!”

“I’m not screaming at the fucking _lancet_ ! I’m screaming at the _Lance_!”

“You do realize I have entire control over your face now, right? Like, I could clog your pores and give you acne if you keep this up!”

Keith, despite having his eyes closed and a pinched expression, rolled his eyes hard enough for Lance to see them move under his closed lids. “Like you would ever dare.”

Lance groaned. “Ugh, you’re right. I’m too good to be that cruel!”

Silence followed, but it wasn’t awkward. Despite the mini-fight that broke out with the whole James incident and then the face-stabbing ( _“I’m_ popping _your blackheads and_ scooping _the shit out of your face, Keith!”_ ) debacle, the two settled into a chill, momentary silence as Lance became more gentle with Keith’s sensitive face. There was music in the background, something from Lance’s editing playlist, and Lance’s window was open, letting a cool breeze waft in. It was...pleasant. Calm in a way that wouldn’t be expected from the two ragin hotheads currently seated on the couch. 

Keith broke the silence, asking, “So, are you gonna keep all this in? This seems like an awfully long video.”

Lance chuckled. “Nah. I’ll cut a lot of it out, or have it be sped-up with a voiceover on top explaining what I’m doing. Nobody needs to watch ten minutes of you complaining about extraction and accusing me of assaulting your face.”

Keith, ever the mature one of the two, blew a raspberry. Lance, who was leaning forward and intensely focused on the last visible blackhead, sputtered at the attack, screeching in his signature dramatic way.

“You absolute whore!” Lance yelled over Keith’s laughing, wiping his face vigorously with his shirt sleeve. “You are so going to hell, you little shit! Shiro can try and save you all he likes but I will personally send you to the deepest pits of hell for that, fucking bitch!”

Keith responded with a brighter laugh, causing Lance to join in, eventually devolving the both of them to boisterous laughing fits, completely forgetting that they had a video to complete. 

~`~

“And again, recipes and links will be in the description!” Lance parrotted, using a soft brush to dab the contents of his homemade exfoliant onto Keith’s face. For all his prior complaining, Keith seemed to enjoy the soft circular motions Lance made with his brush, even relaxing to the point where his shoulders weren’t under his ears. 

“Enjoying this, mullet?” Lance teased, covering his friend’s face.

“Surprisingly, yes,” he replied, leaning back a little. “I feel much safer when you have a brush in your hand than when you had that fucking knife—”

“— _Lancet!_ —”

“—on my face,” Keith finished, ignoring the way Lance poked him in the cheek in retaliation. 

After Lance massaged the mixture into Keith’s face and then wiped it off, he had the shorter boy lean back and smeared on the face mask. 

“Are the cucumbers really necessary?” Keith questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

“Bup, bup bup!” Lance tutted, using a finger to push down the offending brow. “Don’t move your face muscles. That means no frowning or brow shaking for the next twenty minutes.”

At that, Keith frowned. “Do we really have to wait that long?”

“Yes! Now stop frowning or it won’t set right!” Lance reiterated, dropping the other cucumber on his friend’s face. “And the cucumber is totally necessary! It’ll cool your hot head.”

“I hope you know I’m rolling my eyes under them.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Lance replied, smiling fondly at his friend. “Now, are you ready for more questions?” 

Lance didn’t wait for the reply as he dug out his phone from the couch cushions. Keith sighed, unmoving otherwise. 

“As long as you’re not allowed to text people from my phone anymore.”

Lance giggled. “Who knows what the dares hold…”

Keith grumbled at that, while Lance pulled up the questions. “Alright, let’s see what we have here...ooh, this one’s good!”

“I swear to god, Lance…”

“No, trust me! I’m sure you’ll know the answer!” Lance reassured, absently patting Keith’s arm blindly. The other boy slapped the hand away, ensuing in a mini-hand-slapping fight because despite the fact that Keith and Lance were technically adults, their childish rivalry never left their relationship. It was a cornerstone of who they were, just like Keith’s occasionally flared-up temper and Lance’s now-infrequent bouts of insecurity. No matter how grown-up and mature they got, they would still be the same Keith and Lance.

“Fine, lay it on me,” Keith exhaled.

“What is my ultimate dream-vlog destination?” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. 

“That is so not fair! You say that about every country you talk about!” Keith exclaimed, lifting a cucumber to glare at his friend. “We went to get mediterranean food last week and you would not shut up about how you wanted to film a Mamma-Mia-style musical vlog on a small, refurbished Greek island.”

Lance stole the cucumber from Keith, putting it back on his uncovered eye. “Moot point—Hunk would’ve known the answer.”

“We’ve already established that I’m doing you a favor by filling in for Hunk.”

“Oh, look at that!” Lance remarked, looking at the invisible watch on his bar wrist. “You have five seconds!”

“What?! You didn’t say there was a time limit?”

“Five—”

“This is cheating!”

“Four—”

“How the hell am I—”

“Three—”

“—supposed to know which country—”

“Two—”

“Lance!”

“One!”

“—Cuba!” Keith blurted. “Varadero Beach!”

Lance paused for dramatic effect, before announcing loudly, “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Keith sighed dramatically, visibly deflating. “Looks like you’re making a comeback, emo-hair.”

“Shut up about my hair,” the other boy retorted, no heat behind his words.

“How’d you know, anyway? You seemed so sure you wouldn’t get it,” Lance remarked, turning to face his friend even though he wouldn’t see it.

Keith shrugged, readjusting the cucumber falling off his face. “I mean, it was a little bit of a guess. But also, I know you miss home when you don’t visit for a while, and I figured since you haven’t been back in years…”

Keith shifted, awkward under Lance’s tangible gaze. “I remember you telling me about the beach behind your house and your mom’s garlic knots, and the shaved ice carts in the summer and...I don’t know. I guess it makes the most sense you’d want to share the best parts of home one day.”

After a brief pause, Keith added swiftly, “With the fans, I mean. Share your home with your fans.”

Lance blinked, his teasing smile dropping into something fonder, softer, until he shook away the butterflies building in his stomach. “Yeah, man. You’re right.”

There was a soft lull in the conversation where neither of them knew who was supposed to initiate next. It wasn’t awkward, but was verging on awkward territory until Lance chimed in with, “Okay! Next question!” 

Keith groaned, but crossed his arms and got comfortable. This was going to be a long twenty minutes.

~`~

“For the last time, lactose intolerance does not work that way,” Keith huffed, letting Lance dab the rosewater onto his face. “It’s more of an ingesting thing. I’m not gonna get a stomach ache from touching lactose-filled milk.”

“Maybe for you it doesn’t work like that, but you never know with other lactose intolerant people!” Lance argued, throwing the soaked cotton ball away once he finished. 

“I can assure you, that’s not how it works,” Keith affirmed, opening his eyes to send Lance a withering look. “What you’re talking about is more of a dairy allergy situation.”

Lance paused, turning back to his friend. “Wait, there’s a difference?”

Keith looked at him with incredulity. He held Lance’s gaze for a solid five seconds before bursting out into laughter.

“Keith! Wait, stop laughing at me!” Lance shouted, shaking his friend. Said friend had tears in his eyes, and didn’t seem to be letting up soon.

“I thought lactose intolerance was the dairy version of an allergy!”

“‘ _Intolerance_ ,’ Lance! It means you’re _intolerant_ , not allergic!” Keith guffawed, attempting to calm himself down. 

“I—how was I supposed to know?!” Lance spluttered, shoving his still-laughing friend. It wasn’t long before he joined in, despite all his best efforts, and the two devolved into a giggly mess as they shoved each other. Lance let up first, staring at Keith’s rare, wide smile, taking a beat too long before quickly looking away. If he was a shade lighter the blush on his cheeks may have been visible, but fortunately for him even the ever-present rainy weather of seattle couldn’t wash away his deep, natural tan. 

Lance grabbed the moisturizer—the final product of the shoot—and turned back to Keith, who was definitely-totally-for-surely not staring fondly at his friend. Of course not, psshh.

“Are you ready for the last step?” Lance announced, holding up the mini-mason jar of homemade moisturizer. “We’re almost at the finish line, buddy.”

Keith’s eyes widened as he sighed dramatically. “Thank fucking god, this morning has been endless!”

“Shut up, you’re so gonna thank me once you feel how good your skin is!” Lance promised, scooping out some of his shea butter mixture. “Here, read one last question while I put the finishing touches on.”

Keith picked up Lance’s phone turning his face absent-mindedly towards his outstretched hands. His gaze was focused on the questions, so he didn’t catch Lance’s eyes widening, or his sharp intake at the absent-minded action. _How is this boy even real?!_

Ignoring his wayward thoughts, Lance proceeded to apply the moisturizer on Keith’s face, glancing at his phone to see which question he’d chosen to finish on.

“Did you pick these questions out?” Keith asked, frozen on one in particular.

“Some of them. I let Hunk choose some too, and I just had them airdropped to my phone so I haven’t seen all of them,” Lance replied, focusing solely on the task at hand and not at their proximity.

“Oh,” Keith replied, leaving it at that. Lance was startled to find him all of a sudden looking right into his eyes, faces a little too close to be strictly platonic. 

“Who do you trust the most?” 

Lance blinked back, leaning away. “H-huh?”

Keith cleared his throat, looking away and angling the phone towards Lance. “Uh, last question.”

Lance frowned at the screen, mentally making a note to have a chat with Hunk about his sneakiness and general nosiness in Lance’s love life (or lack thereof). “O-oh. Yeah, uh, that’s what it says.”

Keith’s gaze darted between Lance’s expression and the phone in his hand. “I mean, I can just choose anoth—”

“No, this is a fine,” Lance said, plucking his phone out of Keith’s hand. “Who do I trust the most?”

“Ugh, this is another trick question, isn’t it?” Keith scoffed, rubbing his face. “Can’t I just choose an easier one? End off on a high note?”

Lance smirked, reverting to his familiar cocky persona. “Nah, I wanna get one more dare outta this. I’m never gonna get a chance like this again!”

“Fuck you,” Keith said, buying time to think of an answer.

“You’ve got five seconds!” Lance sang.

“Ugh, not this again…”

“Four!” Lance shouted, putting a finger down.

“This isn’t conducive to a fair game, you know?”

“Three!”

“Lance!”

“Two!”

“Ugh, whatever, your mom,” Keith answered, slapping Lance’s obnoxious hand out of his face. “There, now we’re done!”

“EH!” Lance called out, making an ‘x’ with his arms. “Strike three, Kogane!”

“I didn’t get three chances, though?”

“You know what that means!” Lance lilted, waving the bowl of dares in front of the disgruntled boy. “Pick your poison, McKeithers!”

“Your creativity when it comes to nicknames should be poison enough,” Keith grumbled, shifting through the bowl. “Who is it, anyway, if it isn’t your mom?”

Lance plucked the slip of paper Keith chose from the bowl out of his hand before he could read it, turning away from him. “That’s a secret, I’ll never tell.”

Keith levelled him with an unimpressed stare. “Really? You’ve regressed to quoting _Gossip Girl_?”

“X-o-x-o, bitch,” Lance retorted, winking over the piece of paper. “And your final dare of the night is...oh! Look at that! I get to text from your phone again!”

“What?!” Keith exclaimed, pulling the paper out of Lance’s hand. “No way!”

Lance, using the distraction, grabbed Keith’s phone and jumped up from the couch. “You snooze you lose, fucker!” The lanky boy proceeded to dash out of the room before Keith had even begun to read the offending dare—which ironically said ‘take three laps around the living room screaming the alphabet backwards’. The ensuing running and shouting from both boys more than made up for the forgotten dare.

~`~

“I fucking hate you,” Keith hissed, snatching the bag of frozen peas Lance gingerly handed him. He held it to his aching elbow, throwing himself aggressively on Lance and Hunk’s couch. He hoped he left a sizeable dent in their cushion.

“It’s not my fault you’ve somehow turned into a klutz,” Lance remarked, stepping around his friend and putting away the film equipment. “I thought Shiro dragged you to the gym, like, eight days a week!”

“I’m not a klutz. You just have wires everywhere,” Keith grumbled, slouching further into the pillows. He dragged the soft fleece throw from the back of the couch, making himself comfortable while Lance packed up. 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Lance replied from the other room, making sure his sarcasm travelled. 

“Are you sure we don’t have to film anything else?” Keith called out, turning on the TV. “I know we didn’t really film a proper ending…”

“Nah, I’ll just film that myself later. Can’t have you injuring yourself again trying to sign off,” Lance teased.

Keith rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore him in favor of surfing through his Netflix profile. It would take at least another hour for Lance to pick what he wanted for lunch, and another half an hour for it to even get to the apartment, so might as well find something to watch to fill up the time in between. 

Keith’s phone buzzed from somewhere under the blanket, forcing him to put his peas down to search for the disturbance. He tapped the screen to be greeted with a reply from James.

_RU day drinking?_

Keith shook his head, attempting to formulate some kind of coherent explanation for Lance’s stupid text, when the man himself entered the room. Keith locked his screen again, deciding that opening that can of worms was on future-Keith’s to-do list. Present-Keith deserved a chill afternoon, and that was what he was going to get.

“Scoot over,” Lance said, flopping down on the couch next to Keith, propping his feet on the coffee table and pulling Keith’s into his lap. A light drizzle had begun outside, warranting the cozy afternoon, despite the fact that the weather had been clear skied all morning.

“What do you want for lunch?” Keith asked, tossing Lance the remote. “Anything but pizza’s good with me.”

Lance hummed in thought, picking up where Keith left off on scrolling. “Maybe Chinese food? Haven’t had takeout from the place down the street in a while.”

“M’kay,” Keith replied, pulling up the delivery app on his phone. “The usual?”

“You know it.”

The ambient sounds of the steadily-growing rain outside and the soft pings of Keith’s phone filled the apartment, lending a softness to the silence silence the two boys basked in. Lance had found some cheesy romcom to watch and Keith couldn’t be bothered to complain, so they found themselves talking over the cliche plot line until their food arrived.

“So you never actually told me who your last answer was,” Keith remarked, picking at his Chow Mein. 

Lance hummed with faux-nonchalance, focused on his orange chicken. “Eh, it’s not that important.”

Keith frowned, setting his chopsticks down. “Uh, it kinda is if you’re being so evasive about it.”

Lance refused to look up, content on ignoring Keith’s searing gaze on the side of his face. On screen, Katherine Heigl was trying on dress after dress, providing Lance with a movie-montage to focus way too intensely on, in hopes of feigning just enough indifference. It didn’t work.

“Why are you so cagey about this?” Keith questioned, poking Lance in the side. The other boy yelped, kicking him in retaliation.

“I’m not being cagey!” Lance shouted indignantly. “Just, drop it! It’s not a big deal.” 

“Then just tell me,” Keith prodded, scooting closer to Lance on the couch. Knees folded, pressed against the brunette’s side, they were as close as they were this morning when Lance was putting on concoction after concoction on Keith’s face. Only, this time there was no excuse for their proximity.

Lance sighed, setting his food down. “It’s really not a big deal. Just Hunk being his usual nosy self, thinking he can get me to cave and tell him—”

Lance cut himself off before he could finish that thought, acutely aware of who he was pressed up against. Keith’s eyebrows only furrowed at the almost-admission.

“Tell him what?” Keith continued, crossing his arms.

“N-nothing!”

“Lance…”

“O-M-G, Keith, it’s nothing, I swear! Hunk’s just trying to get me to prove some point of his! Literally nothing to worry or think or obsess about!”

Keith’s frown deepened, a somber quality seeping into his dark eyes. “Lance, if you don’t want to talk to _me_ about it—”

Lance turned to Keith abruptly, cutting him off. “No, that’s not it! It’s not _you_ , Keith, I promise! Just, Hunk trying to embarrass me!”

The onset of sadness evaporated from Keith’s obsidian gaze, replaced with outright confusion. “Why would Hunk be trying to embarrass you?”

Lance groaned, hitting the back of his head on the couch. “He’s not—it’s not intentional, I mean. He just wants me to open up, or something, but…”

Lance looked back at Keith, confronted his unwavering stare. This close, Lance could see the various hues of blue and violet in Keith’s eyes that were usually shrouded by the darkness of his unnaturally heliotrope-hued irises. It was a kind of beauty that reminded Lance of petrichor—a comfort that evoked a deep sense of belonging in his heart that transcended his senses. He trusted Hunk and his mom and his friends with a bunch of things, but not the way he trusted Keith with all of himself.

Keith, who was waiting for Lance to finish his thoughts, because he knew it took him a while to get things all out. Keith, whose resolute gaze seemed to calm every frayed nerve Lance had. Keith, who no matter what Lance might say or do to ruin their friendship, would stubbornly not leave his side for something as petty as unrequited feelings.

“It’s you,” Lance said, forcing himself to match Keith’s stare. “Not Hunk, not my mom, you.”

Keith’s frown dropped as he gaped at Lance. He blinked once, twice, thrice, before he realized his mouth was still open and snapped it shut. 

“You mean, from the question…”

“Yeah,” Lance replied. “The person I trust the most? It’s you. Because even though I can talk about my insecurities with mamá, or I can go to Hunk when I’m feeling homesick, or I can call Allura or Pidge or Matt or any one of our friends when I need a pick-me-up...I know I can trust you to make me feel better no matter what I’m feeling.

“Hunk wanted me to confront that, more for myself really than for an audience or anything. He probably wasn’t even going to keep that in the video, actually. Just was gonna use it as an excuse to get me to talk about my feelings.”

“Feelings?” Keith reiterated, frozen in place otherwise.

Lance huffed, looking away before letting his fond gaze find those rich, amethyst eyes. “Yeah. Feelings. Specifically the ones I have for you.”

If they weren’t so close, Lance might have not caught the tiny gasp from the other boy. But then again, Lance was also very aware of him, of everything about him, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t have missed it anyway.

“Feelings...for me,” Keith repeated, as if he was making sure he somehow didn’t miss any context from then and five seconds ago.

“Yep,” Lance exclaimed, frayed nerves numbed by the confession. “Romantic ones, just in case you want to be extremely clear. Although I hardly doubt you wouldn’t get the point from—”

“Wait, go back,” Keith said, shushing Lance with a wave of his hand. “Romantic feelings for _me_?”

Lance chuckled at this, despite the heavy pounding of his heart in his ribcage. “Yeah, you dolt. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes, please,” Keith retorted quickly, eyes shining with something akin to desperation.

Lance paused at that, swallowing. Keith hadn’t moved away, was even minutely leaning in closer than before. And although his words indicated he wasn’t getting what Lance said, the blue-eyed boy knew Keith was just the type who liked things to be out in the open. No playing games when it came to the serious things—he just liked simple veracity.

Lance shifted, turning to face Keith completely. His shaky hands found the other boy’s, gently holding them to keep himself steady. Lance channeled some of Keith’s intrepid nature, exhaling deeply before opening his mouth.

“Keith,” Lance said, “I like you. I really, really like you. I like you in a way that is definitely more than platonic, even though you’re, like, my bestest friend. You’re the one I trust the most, because I know I can come to you when I’ve had a bad day, or am in a bad mood, or just when I want someone to talk to, because you never let me down. We started out rivals—which I know was mostly my fault—and ended up friends a lot faster than anyone could have expected, and you weasled your way into my heart a lot sooner than I even realized. 

“It was like, one moment you were Keith—my best friend who had no patience, got into bar fights on the reg, and I always loved to rile up. And then the next you were _Keith_ —the same guy as before, but kind, and caring, and thoughtful, and amazing beyond words. The guy who knows all my favorite takeout orders by heart, and who takes me out on two-am-drives because my brain won’t shut up, and who always takes my side when I argue with our friends—even if you don’t know what I’m arguing about—and always takes the opposite side of the argument when you know I just want someone to argue with.

“You’re nothing like the person I imagined I’d one day fall in love with, Keith, because you’re so much better and you’re realer than any prince or princess charming I could’ve ever dreamt up,” Lance declared, letting his heartbeat fill his ears. “And, I know this is all kind of out-of-the-blue for you, and that this is gonna make things hella awkward between—”

“I’m in love with you Lance,” Keith interjected, shutting Lance up.

Lance gaped at Keith, whose earnest eyes and tiny smile were inducing somersaults in his stomach. “Huh?”

The tiny smirk widened into a full-blown smile. “I said, I’m in love with you too, Lance. I—I’m not the best with words, but I’ve been in love with you for a while and I thought I was doomed to spend the rest of my life getting over you but...you kinda went and ruined my plans for that with this.”

“Hey—!”

Keith covered the other boy’s mouth with a hand, laughing at his bewildered expression. “Just, I need to get this out. I promise, I’ll be quick. And then you can say or do whatever you want, okay?”

Lance scoffed from beneath Keith’s hand, nodding in a faux, exaggeratedly reluctant manner. Keith dropped his hand in response, using his now free hands to properly hold Lance’s.

“Lance,” Keith started, “the moment I saw you I thought, ‘aw fuck, that guy’s gonna break my heart’—”

“Wait wha—”

“Lance.”

Lance pouted, stopping his tirade. “...I’ll shut up now. You may proceed.”

Keith chuckled at that. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, you have caused me many sleepless nights. At first, it was because of the stupid pining—because of course I’d be unlucky enough to not only fall for a straight guy—which I though you were at the time because of all your snapbacks so you have no right to question me!—but the one straight guy who seemed to really hate my guts. It wasn’t until maybe a year into our ‘rivalry-ship’ that I realized that’s just how you expressed emotions.

“And then along the way I found out you were bi, and that you were actually a nice guy, a good person, a great friend, and someone who I knew would probably be a part of my life for a _very_ long time. And the more permanent a fixture you became, the more I hated the fact that I could not seemingly get over you. Even after seeing you after some of the worst hangovers of your life, through bouts of food poisoning, through the truly gnarliest of attempted haircuts, the stupidest of accidents, and many more embarrassing adventures, I couldn’t stop myself from falling deeper in what I would for the longest time avoid calling love. 

“I don’t know exactly how serious you are about,” Keith paused, gesturing between the two of them, “this, but I just want you to know that I’m all-in, Lance. I’ve loved you for a while, and I know you said you’ve felt like this for a while, but I need you to know that, wherever you are? I’ve been there for years. So, just, let me know what you want from me and it’s yours, okay?”

Keith’s entire demeanor had shifted from cool and confident to an adorable bashfulness that Lance _could_ _not_ get enough of. Laughter bubbled from the taller boy as he leaned forward. Lance pressed his forehead to Keith’s eyes closed and heart content. Keith smiled at the jubilant boy in front of him, incredulous that this was actually happening.

“I can’t believe we’ve been so dumb,” Lance said, opening his eyes. He leaned back a smidge, just enough to take in Keith’s relaxed faced and a smile he’s never seen before. Or, maybe he just didn’t recognize the expression for what it was. He’s seen Keith smile this soft smile occasionally, and even sometimes at him, but he never really knew what to make of it. He was scared to think of what he was thinking right now, of projecting or assuming things that would inevitably end in heartbreak. But he wasn’t scared anymore. Not when Keith assuaged all his fears a moment before with a few words and the softest look. 

“I mean, better late than never, right?” Keith questioned, leaning back in a little.

Lance giggled, letting their foreheads meet again. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Before Lance could open his mouth and say anything else—teasing or otherwise—Keith closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against Lance’s. The warmth of the kiss was familiar, like coming home after a long trip you didn’t know was going to end. And the knowledge that it was Keith that made Lance feel that way? Fucking spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> ah! tfw you find an old wip in your google drive klance folder (which you also forgot existed) from 2017 and decided to finish it because you read to the bottom and were annoyed cause you wanted more but realized the only way to get more was to actually write it :,) 
> 
> anyway, i hope yall enjoyed this self-indulgent fic i wrote cause i wanted more youtube aus! the heartiest of thanks to [@cal_loween_time](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal_loween_time/pseuds/cal_loween_time) for being the best beta and my one-woman-hype-machine and validating me immensely (and giving this a title so i didnt name it 'youtube facemask au')! u a real one bby!
> 
> to anyone who reads this, thank you for the hits, kudos, and comments yall leave! it feeds the attention-seeking whore within me, lol, so def dont be shy!
> 
> (PS: if you see anything else I should tag, lemme know and I'll update them!)


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